


Understanding Darkness

by dragonwriter24cmf



Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: Angst and Feels, Character Study, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Referenced violence, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23120047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonwriter24cmf/pseuds/dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Esther thinks about Father Nightroad, and all the things she's learned about him. About candles lit against the darkness, and the depth of darkness behind a mild exterior. And most of all...what she wants to do about it.
Kudos: 4





	Understanding Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creators of Trinity Blood.

**Understanding Darkness**

She’s always wondered about Father Nightroad’s secrets.

She’s wondered, ever since she joined the AX, about where he fits into it all. The rest of the AX members seem to have such fantastic abilities. Noelle had her ‘emotional vision’. The Professor is a brilliant inventor, if a little eccentric. Father Leon is an incredible fighter, and Father Tres is an android with pinpoint shooting accuracy, among other skills. Everyone in the AX seems to have some incredible talent. She’s only 17 and a junior Sister, too young and untrained to be so extraordinary, but she was top of her class in training, and she works hard to pull her weight and prove her worth.

In contrast Abel is...well, he’s silly, absentminded, clumsy. He forgets things. He acts like a complete goof. He can barely shoot straight, and his physical strength is...well, he doesn't look that strong, though she supposes that might be misleading. Yes, he did help with Gyula, and he does always seem to complete his missions, but she’s never understood what talent he has that makes him so well regarded among his colleagues. Or why he is constantly getting sent on dangerous missions, alone or with only one other person, when he seems like the least reliable member of the AX.

She understands now. The power hidden behind that absent smile, cloaked by cassock and clumsy steps and foolish behavior.

Now she’s seen what creates the shadows in his blue eyes, shadows deeper even than the grief that nearly consumed him when Noelle died. She knows now, why he keeps secrets, why he works alone as often as he does, and why no one ever talks about working with him. She knows what Noelle avoided saying, what the Professor didn’t talk about, what Kate never mentioned. Why Leon respects Abel, even if he calls him ‘Father Four-Eyes’. Why Tres is so often his partner. Not, as she assumed, because the android priest can cover for Abel's failings. That's not it at all.

She’s seen it, the darkness inside him. Far more terrible than anything she ever imagined any soul could hide, let alone him.

She’s no longer afraid. She was, during those minutes in the street. Watching him blow apart the battleships, watching him have his arm blown off and recover like it was nothing. Watching the smile on his face, the fangs arching over his lips and the hungry gleam in his eyes. Watching him absorb Ion’s blood into those black wings and shiver with the reaction, like a man enjoying a decadent dessert. Watching him destroy a tank with only two attacks.

She’s not afraid now. Not after he stopped when she cried out. Not after seeing the shock in his eyes, when sanity returned to him. Not after hearing his choked words, or the howl of shame and grief and horror that erupted from him.

Not after watching him fall to his knees, fighting to regain control of himself. Like watching the archangel Michael wrestle the devil back into the pit. Not after seeing the devastation in his blue eyes after he was done and restored to himself, kneeling in the street with his arms wrapped around his ribs, as though trying to hide from a shame far more potent than the near-nakedness induced by his ruined uniform.

And it is shame, she knows that even without asking. It’s obvious in the way he refuses to look at her, or at Ion. The way he shoulders Brother Petros’ heavy armored form, rather than go near Ion’s small, slight body.

She wonders if Ion saw. Saw his protector, the man who was truly his sword.

She wonders if Petros saw. Saw what Abel is, what Abel hides. The reason he could have confidence in facing down an Inquisitorial Squad, while at the same time being reluctant to try. She wonders if Petros saw, and what he thinks of the priest who hides such devastating power, and a demon’s form.

As they journey the rest of the way to the Embassy (A matter of a few hundred yards), she wonders if Lady Caterina knows. She can’t imagine the Lady Cardinal doesn’t know, not when she and Abel have been friends for over ten years, and he has worked for her for a decade.

If she had any doubts, however, they disappear when the Duchess of Milan and Sister Kate meet them in the Infirmary. Now that she knows what she’s looking for, it’s clear that both of them are aware of Abel’s shadowed side.

It’s obvious, in the way Caterina’s eyes flick over Abel’s body, checking his condition and unsurprised by the fact that his bared torso and shoulders reflect none of the damage done to his uniform. The way she touches his arm, gentle and reassuring, the way Abel simultaneously flinches and looks away, while also leaning into her touch, both ashamed and seeking comfort at the same time. The way she brings his attention to his crucifix, still hanging from his throat, in a wordless message that Esther can’t understand and isn’t sure she wants to. Whatever message is conveyed, it speaks of secrets so sharp they could cut to the soul, if she knew them.

It’s obvious, in Kate’s gentle silence and concerned stare, the way she doesn’t scold Abel about his ruined clothing, or ask whether or not he’s injured. Kate knows. Knows that the injuries done cannot be fixed with bandages and gauze and painkillers. Not for him.

Only two days ago she would have been angry, to have been left out, left ignorant. She isn’t now.

It’s clear. This is simply one of those things that isn’t spoken about. That cannot be spoken about. Yes, it’s a secret, and a huge one, but even if it weren’t, even if it weren’t something the AX  _ must _ keep quiet, for Caterina’s sake if no one else’s, it would be something that no one talks about. Too painful, too deep. 

The secret of Abel’s other self is too sharp. It’s like the reasons behind Leon’s incarceration, or the fact that Sister Kate only appears as a hologram. It’s like the story behind the Professor’s presence in Rome, or his unwillingness to talk about Albion.

It’s like her own memory of killing Gyula’s lieutenants in a back alley in Istvan, or how she didn’t tell Ion about the death of her mentor, Bishop Laura. Not something to be spoken of, not a story to be told. Too personal and dark to be brought into the light of day for anything less than the most important of reasons.

Some secrets are secrets because the revelation of them would make a soul bleed. She doesn’t know how Abel became what he was, what happened to produce that other form, that dark and twisted version of himself. She knows she’ll never ask. If even the revelation of the Crusnik’s existence (she heard the word from Kate) is such agony, then she imagines that telling the story behind it might be a torture beyond comparison.

The little he does tell her, standing on a balcony outside Caterina and Ion’s meeting room, is enough to confirm her suspicions.

_ ‘I’m sorry you had to see that.’ _ The apology so heartfelt and heartbreaking it makes her want to weep. Makes her want to hold him close and comfort him. The distance he keeps from her now makes that impossible, as does the way he refuses to meet her eyes. 

It hurts, the tone in his voice, like he’s crying, or screaming silently, and his posture speaks of despair. He was like this when Noelle died, and she has no more idea how to heal him now than she did then. She only knows that he is suffering, that he is ashamed, and that she wishes she were not the cause.

She wishes she could go back and stop the terrified screams she released, before her mind caught up with her horror at the situation. The broken requests for him to stay away. She wishes she could go back and take his hand, coax him back from madness with kindness, rather than fear.

_ ‘Now you know...how my sins have marked me.’ _ It’s a statement that fills her with ice, fills her with grief. She can think of no sin this gentle man could have committed that would make such a statement true. The fact that she can tell he believes it, utterly and completely, is far more horrifying than his other form could ever be, even in the worst of situations. 

The look on his face...she thought the sight of his heartbreak, his grief after Barcelona, was painful. But this, the way his eyes are closed, head bowed as though awaiting judgment…every line of his lean form and expressive face filled with guilt and shame and utter anguish...it’s almost beyond bearing. Peter, kneeling before the cross of Christ, could look no worse, and that image has always brought her to tears.

He looks broken. And she doesn’t know how to fix him. How to heal this wound that bleeds, or convince him that he need not be ashamed of what he has revealed. She doesn’t know how to convince him that his guilt, for the temporary madness that possessed him, is absolved, nor how to cover and comfort this naked and tortured soul that he has been forced to expose to her.

She understands now where he found the wisdom he used to smile and declare  _ ‘I am your friend _ ’ the night the church burned, and where he found the words and actions to be her light in the darkest period of her life. However long he has borne his own burden, his strength must be immense to avoid crumbling under the weight of it. 

She wonders if somewhere, sometime, someone said similar things to him, guiding him out of the darkness as he led her. She thinks they might have, and wishes she could meet that person, both to thank them, and to ask for their help now.

She wonders if Lady Caterina has any answers, and wishes she could ask. But she doesn’t have the confidence to approach her superior on a matter such as this. And she thinks, knows instinctively, that to ask would be to ask for a breach of whatever trust has been forged between them.

Whatever it was that allowed Caterina to offer comfort, and Abel to receive it, even as reluctantly as he did, she won’t risk damaging it.

Which leaves her wondering how to mend things. Wondering if she’ll ever understand the story behind Abel’s secret, and his actions. Wondering if she even wants to.

*****UD*****

She sees him die, sees him resurrected in darkness and madness and pain.

She watches a battle, a battle she knows she can’t stop. She knows she doesn’t understand everything, but between her trip to the Empire, the Contra Mundi’s absent words, and Abel himself, she thinks she understands enough.

Cain, Abel, and Seth. The three first children. Two who fought, one fated to die, one fated to damnation, and one fated to pick up the pieces afterward.

She doesn’t know who served as their Adam and Eve, nor how long ago it was. A long time, if Seth’s title as the ‘Nine-Hundred Year Empress’ is in any way accurate. She doesn’t know which brother was originally the one filled with anger, or who made the first mistake.

Which brother felt denied by God. Whoever and whatever served as God to them. Perhaps the God she herself knows, or perhaps there was something else, someone else, they once looked to.

But she thinks she understands. An ancient story. The first children of a new race, for Seth is called the Mother of Methuselah, and it is no stretch to believe that Cain and Abel were involved in the beginning of that race as well.

God’s plan or the devil’s, or both, will not be denied. Or so Esther thinks. But there are too many parallels drawn, between that ancient story of Genesis and the one that now plays out,for her to believe it is mere coincidence. The combat between good and evil, the fallen and the sacred. The Devil and the Son of God.

She understands there is probably more to it. Whatever is between these two is infinitely more complex. She knows that. The proof is there, in Cain’s strange manner, a calm madness. In the words Abel spoke to her in Carthage, of sins and marks.

It seems strange to her, that Abel, the truest and best man she knows, would think of himself as bearing the Mark of Cain. And she is almost sure that it was such a mark that he referenced, that day on the terrace. But there again, she is aware that she doesn’t have the full story. 

So many things she doesn’t know. What happened, that the reference of Cain could bring him to such violent madness?

Who was he, that he has access to ancient technology, that he could do what he did in Istvan, and disarm the Star of Sorrow with a pass-code no one should have known? That he should be so at ease in the tunnels of Albion, accessing them through doors that no one else alive has ever used?

What is Crusnik, that it could drive him mad and restore him from death all at once?

How did he become a priest? And why?

What circumstances led to three siblings all on different sides of a war? The priest of the Vatican, the Contra Mundi, and the Methuselah Empress?

She doesn’t know the answers to these questions. She doesn’t know if she will ever know. But still, there are some things she does know, and she clings to those as she watches the battle above Londinium.

She knows she has faith in Father Nightroad. No matter what darkness or madness consumes him at the moment, she has faith he will return to himself, as he once did on the broken street of Carthage. 

She knows that he is a good man, no matter what horrors may lie in his past. Whatever sins he may have committed, or whatever evil he believes he has done, he is still the man who comforted her, who saved her so often. The man who helped forge peace between Vatican and Empire. The man who fought for humans, protected so many. 

He is still Father Nightroad. Her friend. Caterina’s loyal priest. The professor’s favorite test subject. Leon’s ‘Father Four-Eyes’. Father Tres’s partner. The man who mourned for the fallen of Barcelona, and nearly died to prevent the tragedy from repeating in Rome. 

He is the man who won the respect of the Duchess of Kiev and the Earl of Memphis, to the point that these two proud Methuselah would gladly fight with him, or for him. 

He is the brother to Seth, bright, brilliant Seth, with her child-like form and her too-wise eyes. Having seen them together, the whispered talks and the warmth between them, she understands why she instinctively trusted the Empress, even with her ever changing roles and layers of deception.

She thinks Seth learned her warmth and her laughter from her brother. She has none of his clumsy foolishness, but all of his kindness and strength. 

In his darkness, there is madness. But also love and loyalty. Faith and courage.

These are the things Esther believes in. 

He once told her that it was better to light a candle than curse the dark. To Esther, he is the light, the candle guiding the way. And if that light throws shadows as well…

Well, she understands. And she will wait, and light a candle to counter them and bring him home again.

**Author's Note:**

> So...this was set in the last half of the anime, though I suppose you could apply it to the manga too. But really, it just popped into my head: 'What was Esther thinking about everything, after she discovered Abel's true nature?' And I wanted to explore it. So I did.


End file.
